


Silver and Sexy

by eeyore9990



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Finding Gray Hair, M/M, Stiles is fascinated by Derek's everything, and vice versa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 19:23:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6579241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a gray hair.  In Derek's beard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver and Sexy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spikeluv84](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikeluv84/gifts).



> For @spikeluv84, who requested Derek finding gray hairs and freaking out… with Stiles comforting him. This drifted a little, but I hope you still enjoy it.

Stiles was watching him.

Staring, really. It was unnerving.

Derek peeked up through his eyelashes, trying not to let on that he was looking back, and this time it worked. Of course, it helped that Stiles wasn’t looking near Derek’s eyes. He seemed to be staring at Derek’s mouth. Without conscious thought, Derek’s own eyes dropped to _Stiles’_ mouth, to the pink lips that were wet and gleaming in the low, flickering bluish light of the loft as the pack watched some movie Derek had lost the thread of less than ten minutes into the plot. 

When he raised his eyes to Stiles’, he met Stiles’ wide-eyed gaze, which made Stiles startle, spilling a few kernels of popcorn down the back of Scott’s shirt and led to a bit of a food fight which distracted Derek and Stiles both from their little staring contest. But not before Derek noticed the way Stiles’ face was splotchy with a blush. Or maybe – he sniffed delicately – the flush of arousal.

The movie finished not long after, but even in that time, Derek caught Stiles staring at him more than the screen. So when the assorted pack members began to leave, Derek caught Stiles by the back of the neck and held tight, smirking to himself when that action made Stiles flail in his hold, then cross his arms.

“Yeah, I don’t have a ten page paper to write by midnight tomorrow,” Stiles grumbled under his breath, wriggling just a little, testing Derek’s hold. Always testing _everything._

“Then maybe,” Derek murmured, setting his mouth right behind Stiles’ ear so his breath blew over the back of his neck and ruffled his hair, “you shouldn’t have come tonight.”

Stiles sagged in his hold before jerking upright. “I, ah. Yeah. Probably. Good advice, dude, thanks. I’ll take that and just–” Stiles tried stepping forward only to hit the end of his leash, so to speak, and stagger right back to where he’d been standing. “Or I could stay here and let the thoughts percolate. Why don’t I do that, then?”

When the last of the pack’s heartbeats faded away, Derek loosened his grip just enough to slide his hand around the front of Stiles’ throat, fingers pressed lightly to the skittering pulse there. “You were watching me,” Derek sighed. “All those tedious arguments about getting a television that the pack could watch and then you… don’t even watch it. You watch _me_.” Setting the tip of his nose so close to the back of Stiles’ ear he could feel the body heat coming off of him, Derek whispered, “Why were you watching me, Stiles?”

The scent of arousal bloomed again, dark and musky, but apparently that was enough to make Stiles actually fight back instead of the half-hearted struggling he’d been doing earlier while hanging from Derek’s grip. This time, his elbow caught Derek in the solar-plexus while his foot hooked around behind Derek’s ankle, pushing him over backward with the addition of a hip check. He could have tightened his hold, possibly snapping Stiles’ neck in the process, but he didn’t want to _hurt_ Stiles, just impress upon him …

Something. Derek really didn’t know _why_ he was pushing this, honestly. Normally, he’d just ignore it – he wasn’t unused to overlong looks from friends and strangers alike, after all. But Stiles had all but grown out of it. His scent had changed over the years, from teenaged hormone-driven lust mingled with fear to occasional irritation mixed with arousal to a settled scent that was mostly soft and fond. They still pushed each other’s buttons, but Stiles no longer needled Derek until one or both of them snapped.

Stiles had matured, and in doing so, he seemed to gain control of his directionless lusting. Derek just hadn’t realized how nostalgic he was for that particular scent from this particular person. 

From his spot on the floor, Derek pushed to his elbows and quirked an eyebrow at Stiles. “Was that an answer?”

Stiles scowled at him, dragging a hand through his hair before he sighed heavily and reached down, offering Derek a hand up. The gesture was pointless as anything other than an unspoken apology. 

“You know,” Stiles said as he yanked Derek back to his feet, that flush leaving patches of red on his cheeks again, “that thing you do where you use sex as a weapon? I thought you were working on that in therapy.”

Hand spasming in Stiles’ too-tight grip, Derek stepped back, yanking his hand away so he could cross his arms over his chest. “I,” he started, clenching his jaw. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not… fuck.” Stiles scrubbed at his face with both hands before holding one up. “ _I’m_ sorry. You’re right. I _was_ staring, and then I threw your therapy in your face to deflect from my own inability to talk about… anything.” When he dropped his hands, their eyes met, and Stiles must have seen something in Derek’s startled gaze because he let out a snort and waggled his fingers. “Personal growth. Yaaay.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Derek blew it out, then considered all the ways he should have approached this from the beginning. “I couldn’t help but notice,” he started, a little hesitant at first as he felt his way along, then growing more and more confident as Stiles’ lips quirked into a grin that was tinged with pride. Pride in _Derek_. “You were looking at me tonight. Is there a reason for that or were you just lost in your thoughts?”

Stiles flushed again and lowered his gaze to the floor, fiddling with the hem of his shirt while his shoulders went tense. “Okay, I just… I noticed something and I thought,” rolling his eyes, Stiles let his shoulders slump back down and smoothed out his shirt before shoving his hands in his pockets. “You have a gray hair. In your beard.”

Something in Derek’s gut went cold because… yeah. He’d seen it too. Seen the shining hair hiding among the black when he’d been grooming his beard earlier that day. And it had hit him with a startling weight, because the sight of it had brought back a memory of climbing into his grandfather’s lap when he’d been small, chubby hands patting at the bristling hairs growing from his grandfather’s chin as he asked curiously why some of the hairs were different colors.

And the sight of the gray hair… It reminded Derek too that in just a few short years, he would officially have lived longer without his family than he had with it. 

There must have been something of what he was feeling in his expression because Stiles’ face went soft and he stepped forward, reaching out so easily, offering Derek comfort without a thought. “Hey,” he teased lightly, concern darkening his eyes. “You’re still the fairest of them all. Don’t worry, dude. I’m kinda… looking forward to seeing more of them in there, you know? It’s like a merit badge. ‘Beacon Hills Survivor.’”

Derek sucked in a breath at that, then let it out slowly, nodding. He didn’t say anything, though, too many emotions clogging his throat to allow words out, but Stiles seemed to understand. With a small, questioning noise, he opened his arms wide and edged forward, telegraphing his intent to hug, and Derek fell against him easily.

Fingers sliding through the hair at the back of his head made Derek sink further into the embrace, burying his face in Stiles’ neck and just breathing him in. “Hey, Stiles?” he finally said when his breathing was no longer stuttered little hitches.

“Hmmm?”

“I’m going to turn thirty next year.” 

“Oh trust me, buddy,” Stiles said, a little laugh underscoring his words. “We are _all_ counting down the days. Lydia already has the caterers on stand by.”

Derek scowled, but then let it go because of course the pack was going to go overboard. It wouldn’t be them if they didn’t.  
  
“When I was a kid,” he said, and there was a heaviness weighing down his words until they were barely a whisper, “I had a list. Things I wanted to do before I turned different ages. And most of them…” He trailed off. He didn’t need to explain that the landmark ages on those lists had passed without him accomplishing any of those childhood dreams. “But I thought. There’s one thing I–”

The fingers playing against the back of his head slowed to a stop as Stiles waited for him to finish that thought. “What’s up, man? You have a bucket list item you need some help with?”

“I always thought I’d be married by the time I was thirty. And obviously I’m not anywhere near that, but…” Derek pulled back from Stiles’ embrace but didn’t go far, just far enough to be able to see Stiles’ face as he asked him, “Would you go to dinner with me? Tomorrow?”

Stiles looked confused for a minute, before his face went blank… and then his eyes widened, his mouth dropped open, and he squeaked. 

Derek only laughed a little.

“Is that a yes?”

“Y–? Yes? Is that a– oh my fucking god, of _course_ that’s a yes!” Then the light in Stiles’ eyes dimmed a little and they narrowed in suspicion. “Wait, this _is_ you asking me on a date, right? And I mean, it’s not some knee-jerk reaction to the whole gray hair thing, right? You _want_ to go on a date with _me_ , not just because I’m convenient?”

Rolling his eyes, Derek reached up and slid a hand around the back of Stiles’ neck, tugging him forward into a light, chaste kiss. “Yes,” he murmured, barely pulling back enough to speak. “I want to date _you_ , which is why I asked _you_ on a date.”

Stiles nodded, his nose rubbing the side of Derek’s cheek a little as he sighed happily and then jerked, pulling out of Derek’s hold and running toward the door.

Eyebrows winging upward, Derek called out, “Stiles? Is something wrong?”

“What?!” Stiles shouted, struggling into his jacket – which was upside down and inside out. “No, nothing’s wrong, but I wasn’t lying about that ten page paper. And I am going to date your damn socks off tomorrow, so I have to go pull an all-nighter.” Rushing back over, Stiles planted a slightly off-center kiss on Derek’s mouth, then just knotted the sleeves of his jacket around him and fled.

Derek laughed softly when Stiles slammed back in, having apparently realized he’d left his wallet and keys on the table beside the door.

“Tomorrow,” Stiles announced breathlessly, pointing at him. “I am going to date you so hard.”

“I look forward to it.” Derek tried and failed to bite back a grin, especially when Stiles’ eyes dropped down to his beard again, his mouth parting on a sigh.

“I’m gonna name that beautiful hair. It’s obviously my lucky beard hair.”

“What.”

Stiles grinned, shrugging his shoulder as he reached for the door handle. “If I hadn’t seen it and started imagining older you all silver and sexy… We might not have a date tomorrow. It’s definitely lucky.”

Derek rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Go write your paper, idiot.”

Waggling his eyebrows, Stiles edged out the door, knocking his elbow against the door frame because he wasn’t looking. “Yeah. Yeah. Paper,” he breathed dreamily, eyelids fluttering a little. Then his eyes widened in alarm. “Shit! Paper!” He nearly smacked himself with the door in his haste, leaving Derek chuckling to himself even after the slamming of it behind Stiles filled the room.

Derek wandered into the bathroom long minutes after the sound of Stiles’ heartbeat faded away. Staring into the mirror under the bright lights, he lifted a finger to smooth over the hair that had started it all. “Thanks.”


End file.
